HEA: Boiling Water
by Althea SaDiablo
Summary: Prequel to Happily Ever After. There are several events that mark the stages of every man's life, be he the lowest servant or the Emperor himself. Shi Ryuuki is certainly no exception.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Happily Ever After is the title of a shamelessly self-indulgent fanfic I wrote for Saiunkoku, featuring my tremendously shiny OTP (that would be Ryuuki/Shuurei). This is another shamelessly self-indulgent fic, a kind of prequel. It's not very long, no, and it's the first of four parts. Beware the rampant silliness.

* * *

Court, and the morning, dragged endlessly. The Emperor was by turns distracted, anxious, and fidgety. He kept having to ask officials to repeat what they had said, and after that he would obviously make an effort to pay attention . . . for all of a sentence or two. Then his eyes would stray to the window, or he would absently pick up his brush only to put it down again, or he would shift his weight and start rearranging his sleeves.

One of the officials mistook the Emperor's obvious distraction for opportunity and tried to take advantage of it. The Emperor nodded along to his litany for five minutes while fraying the edge of his robe. Then suddenly his head came up, and he froze the hapless man with an eagle-sharp look as he delivered a complete and decidedly final dressing-down not only about the policy the man was trying to push through, but also his entire professional and personal record. The other attendees stared, shocked by the Emperor's utterly abnormal harshness, and when the unlucky official finally sank back into his seat, pale and shaking, it was a while before anyone had the courage to open their mouth again.

In that time the Emperor began shredding the pile of reports in front of him, and only mumbled a vague assent at the next wary request for permission to speak.

Court would have continued to limp through the interminable morning, but it was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a uniformed servant who hurried to the Emperor's side and whispered something urgently in his ear.

The Emperor came to his feet with a whoop in the middle of a violent flurry of paper fragments. He vaulted the desk in front of him, heedless of his fine robes, then cleared the table between the Senior Secretary of Finance and the Senior Secretary of Civil Affairs with the grace of a leaping gazelle and was out the door before any of them could do more than blink.

The doors swung to stillness on their hinges. The flakes of paper drifted slowly down to settle on the throne. The Senior Secretary of Civil Affairs opened his fan, then shut it with a snap.

And then the fan went flying as Kou Reishin leaped to his feet. The expression on his face was one that had never been seen in public before, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, but it was doubtful that any of the court members in their bewilderment realized just how rare and precious the sight was. "Shuurei!" he shouted, and shot off after the Emperor before his fan could clatter to the table.

A light breeze played with the drifts of papers, fluttering their ragged edges.

Kou Kijin picked up the fan and pushed himself to his feet. "It appears that court is in recess for the foreseeable future," he said calmly. "I suggest we adjourn to the Temple of the Sages and pray for the Empress's safe, successful labor and delivery."

_Idiots_, he thought to himself, turning on his heel and leaving the resulting pandemonium in the throne room behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Part two of four. Men are distinctly useless when it comes to childbirth; they know it, too. Doesn't mean they're willing to admit it, though.

* * *

The Emperor was pacing the anteroom, his footsteps rapid and constant as the soft whispering sound of his robe. His face was set, and he stared at the ground in front of him intently. His hands were folded inside his long sleeves in a small, thoughtless mercy. Whenever he managed to sit down his fingers were busy, pulling the golden threads from the embroidered bands on his robe. Already one cuff of the expensive, hand-made, one-of-a-kind fabric was a frayed mess of broken and unraveled ends. 

Shuurei doubtlessly would have thrown a fit, if she were in any condition to throw one.

The Emperor couldn't seem to sit for very long, though, fortunately for his sleeves. He would try, periodically, or whenever someone mentioned to him that maybe he should. But before long he would be attacking his sleeves with restless fingers, or distractedly and repeatedly attempting to smooth his bangs down, or one leg would start tapping impatiently. And then he would be up again, pacing the same track back and forth across the floor, the stiff fabric of his robe shushing with every step.

Seiran was standing against one wall in his armor, staring fiercely into nothing. In contrast to the Emperor, he was completely and utterly still . . . except for his left hand, which held the ivory-and-gold hilt of his sword. Every time the Emperor reached one side of the room, he pulled the sword a finger's distance out of the sheath. Every time the Emperor reached the other side of the room, he let it slide back down. In the silent antechamber, the sound of metal on metal seemed unnaturally loud.

Kouyuu, at least, was attempting to project an aura of calm unflappability. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, a scroll open in his lap, his head bent over it. It was only upon closer examination that it became clear he was not calm at all. His eyes were not tracking the lines of characters, but remained set at a fixed distance, unmoving. His hands were clenched, frozen claws on the fragile paper roll. And every time the Emperor turned, and Seiran's sword snicked against its sheath, Kouyuu's eyebrow would twitch.

_shushshushshush._

_snick-click._

_twitch._

_shushshushshush._

_snick-click._

_twitch._

_shushshush_--

Shuuei realized with resigned terror that his sanity was not going to survive the day. In fact, he doubted it would last the rest of the hour. He could only murmur prayers of thanks that Kou Reishin and Shouka had already been packed off to the archives. Shouka had seemed calm, until one felt the prickle of electricity around him, a feeling like the summer air before a thunderstorm, and the fact that the capacity for inadvertent destruction he had previously only displayed in the kitchen seemed to be affecting everything around him. Reishin, for his part, had not been anything resembling calm, and it had seemed increasingly likely that he was going jump the Emperor and throttle him bare-handed for putting the Senior Secretary's beloved niece in her current pregnant state.

Fortunately Shouka had realized the danger and had dragged the protesting Reishin off with him, murmuring something distractedly about reorganizing the archives.

The endless repetition of sounds was finally broken when the door to the inner rooms opened, and Shusui came out of it. In less than an instant the Emperor had rushed over to her--

--Shuuei was forced to admit that he was not nearly as calm as he was pretending to be, because he managed to beat not only Kouyuu but also Seiran to the choice spot off the Emperor's right shoulder. The other two crowded in behind him.

"What's happening? How is Shuurei? Is she okay? Is it normal for things to go on this long? Is Shuurei in pain? How much longer will this last?" the Emperor's questions followed each other seamlessly, not allowing Shusui time to answer.

Shusui waited until the Emperor had to pause to take a breath. She somehow refused to be loomed over despite the crowd of anxious men in front of her, and her astounding serenity remained utterly undisturbed. "Shuurei is resting right now, and she is fine. The labor is normally quite long for a woman's first child; it only started late this morning and so I would not expect the child to be born until evening, perhaps later."

"This evening?!" Ryuuki looked horrified. "But that's . . . that's hours away! How can it be that long for a baby? Are you sure there's only one?"

"The doctors seem to think so, You Majesty."

There was a muffled but sharp feminine cry from behind the doors. The Emperor went white as a sheet. "Shuurei!"

It seemed that he would head a stampede into Shuurei's rooms, but although he tried to push forward somehow Shusui was still in between him and the doors. "Your Majesty, Shuurei will not appreciate it if you disturb her right now."

The Emperor looked absolutely panicked, and Shuuei had to admit that none of the rest of them were doing much better. Seiran was decidedly wild about the eyes, Kouyuu had a fist clenched around the heavy bead on his belt, and Shuuei didn't want to think about what his own face must look like. "Didn't you hear her just now? She's in pain! We have to do something!"

Shusui sighed. "Your Majesty, there's noth--" She paused, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Actually, there is something you can do. If you-- all four of you-- could go boil some water, that would be very useful."

"Boil water?" the Emperor blinked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It would help Shuurei a great deal if you would boil some water. Do you think you can do that?"

The Emperor drew himself up. "We know how to boil water!"

"Good, Your Majesty, I'm happy to hear that." Shusui scanned their faces, and her eyes lit on Shuuei. "Master Ran, do you know where the royal kitchens are?"

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

"Good. Please take His Majesty and the others there and get to work at once."

"Boiling water?" Shuuei said, and then cursed himself for sounding like an utter fool. Apparently keeping his mouth shut had been a good idea.

"Yes, Master Ran. Go there and boil water."

It became apparent that Shusui was not going to move until they were gone. Shuuei cleared his throat and took the Emperor's elbow, tugging him around. "Your Majesty, they're right this way . . ."

"All of you," Shusui said.

Her voice was mild, but both Seiran and Kouyuu backed up a step. "I . . . that is, of course," Seiran said. "If Shuurei needs water boiled . . ."

"She does. Very much," Shusui confirmed, and something about her tone had all of them trooping obediently out the door in search of the kitchens.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Shuuei has pointed out that, this being HEA, _he_ should get a happy ending too, with a certain someone. I have acknowledged the point, but talked him into allowing me this scene despite that. There's been a long delay in posting this, my apologies. And it's extremely short, too.

* * *

Shusui came hurrying into the receiving room outside Shuurei's suite just as Shuuei entered it, her arms full of linens and a distracted look in her blue eyes. 

"Shusui!" he called as he headed her off, trailing a cloud of steam from the large and heavy pot of boiling water he was carrying. "Here's the water-- where do you want it?"

She looked as harried as he'd ever seen her. "Why are you bothering me with this now? I'm busy, Master Ran, I don't care where you put it."

He gaped at her as she brushed past him and then had to hurry to catch up, water sloshing dangerously close to the top of the cauldron. "But-- you told us to boil water! What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Didn't you hear me saying that I don't care? Dump it in the garden if you don't know what to do with it!"

Shuuei set his jaw. "You want me to dump this. In the garden."

"Yes, Ran Shuuei," Shusui said with exaggerated patience, as if she spoke to a young and not particularly bright child. "Dump it in the garden."

"But-- but didn't you need it for something? What am I supposed to tell His Majesty?"

"Tell him we need more, of course. Lots more. Buckets more. As much hot water as he can make. It's very important."

Holding the massive pot was making Shuuei's arms and shoulders ache. "And what am I supposed to do with it after he's made it? Dump it all in the garden?"

"Yes, Master Ran. That's exactly right. Dump it in the garden. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to attend to!" With that she bustled through the doorway to the inner reaches of the palace, leaving him staring after her, still holding the cauldron.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I'm really making shameless use of Shuuei, but he's so very convenient . . . Yes, this is the last chapter. Brought to you by the Imperial fishponds and Lilo & Stitch. Perhaps the events of HEA will be continued in a further fic, _HEA: Happy Birthday_, if I ever get up the gumption to finish it. We'll have to see.

* * *

Shuuei judged that between the four of them they had significantly lowered the water levels in the kitchen wells. They probably would have flooded the gardens with the products of their labors, but Shuuei had realized that the Emperor really liked the gardens and thus the boiling water could not be disposed of there. The garden ponds were likewise not an option, as the Emperor was equally fond of the fish in them, and boiling water was not generally beneficial to the good health of fish. Indeed, Ryuuki not only liked the fish, but had once confided to Shuuei (after drinking a significant amount of sake) that he knew all the carp in the garden ponds personally, and had proceeded to deliver a highly entertaining lecture on their names and habits. Some had childish monikers like Bubbles and Pudge and Swimmy; some had names lifted from history (Sou Gen, for instance, was a large, elderly carp with very impressive whiskers); some were named for members of the court whom they particularly resembled.

The knowledge that there was a good-sized black-and-grey carp bearing Shuuei's name (the Emperor said that this fish was particularly fond of flakey noodles, was always annoying a smaller, paler fish with red-and-grey splotches, and was very popular with the lady carp) might have also affected his feeling of responsibility for the Imperial fishponds.

Shuuei had therefore discreetly instructed the team of servants pressed into water-carrying service that they were to empty their various pots in the royal baths. They came and went in a constant stream, because the Emperor had commandeered the entire kitchen for the water-boiling effort. The cooks had been unable to access the stoves, since all available points were occupied by pots of water, and so everyone had been served a dinner of nuts, raw vegetables, and dried meats. Complaints had been referred to the Emperor, but those few who dared found themselves pressed into service pulling up water from the wells.

An entire night spent boiling water and trying to keep the Emperor distracted was dragging at Shuuei's footsteps, though. He and Kouyuu had both taken chairs for when they weren't fetching water or ordering the process. Seiran was still on his feet, moving up and down the lines of stoves and checking the water levels. As the person with the most experience in the kitchen he was in charge of judging whether each cauldron of water was sufficiently boiled before it was sent along its way.

After the last of the complaining officials had collapsed, claiming that their arms were too tired to pull up any more water, the Emperor had taken over that aspect of work himself. It seemed he had a never-ending supply of energy and was desperately eager to do something with it. Even in the growing pre-dawn light his eyes still burned fever-bright and desperate. He grilled every water-carrier on how Shuurei was doing when they returned, overwhelming them with questions that they didn't actually have answers to, having only been to the royal baths and back. At least Ryuuki was too anxious to notice that they stuttered a lot and said very little, and that their eyes were fixed not on the royal person but rather on Shuuei, who would always take up a position just behind the Emperor and casually play with the hilt of his sword during the interview. And after each mini-inquisition Shuuei would smile at the servant, showing a bit too much of his teeth, reassure the Emperor and get him back to the well, and then return to his chair.

It was the small hours of the morning before that routine was broken. Shuuei sensed the change in the air and came to his feet quickly. Shusui stood in the doorway, hands folded in her elegant sleeves. She looked just as calm as always, but tired shadows gathered around her eyes, and her normally light carriage seemed weighed down by the night's efforts.

He wasn't the only one who had marked her entrance to the royal kitchens. It seemed like even the bubbling pots and their rising columns of steam had gone silent, waiting. The Emperor stepped forward, then stopped. He didn't seem to be breathing. Seiran was beside him, with a hand on his shoulder.

Shusui smiled, then, and dropped low into a full obeisance. "Your Majesty is a father," she said formally.

The Emperor took a breath. "And Shuurei?"

"She's waiting for you."

Ryuuki followed Shusui out of the kitchens, and they all trailed behind him. Shuuei was feeling very light-headed; he couldn't bring himself to say anything. There was something unearthly about Ryuuki's deliberate steps, a sense that they were so measured and slow so as to contain a wild, expansive force that threatened to burst free at any moment.


End file.
